


The Angel Amongst the Books

by afterallthistennant



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-14 15:35:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterallthistennant/pseuds/afterallthistennant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fic using a friend's OC, Bohiel, a fallen angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Bohiel ran side by side, keeping pace with the long-legged Sherlock Holmes and his companion Doctor John Watson. He wasn’t sure if they were running towards Moriarty or away from him, but he followed the detective and the army doctor regardless. Suddenly they were in a room full of commotion there was a voice shouting. Bohiel looked up and saw Moriarty yelling, but many voices were coming from the sinister man’s mouth. Something wasn’t right; one man shouldn’t be speaking two things at once. He smelled something strong and distinct; it smelled like dust, spices, and memories. With that smell came a sudden sense of awareness as to whom the second voice belonged to. It was Bohiel’s friend, Evan, waking Bohiel up. Apparently he had fallen asleep in the comfy old arm chair in Evan’s book shop. Not that that was a surprise to Evan by now.

Bohiel could often be found asleep in that same chair at closing time. Evan owned a small book store, above which he lived in a modest apartment. It was Evan’s simplicity that drew the angel Bohiel to the human in the first place. Evan, like Bohiel was passionate about books, and the small book store was perfect for both of them. Evan didn’t really need the money, he was brilliant, and had sold a program design to Microsoft when he was fresh out of college, so he hardly cared about income from the book store. He sold all varieties of books, but also lent out books, allowed people to exchange one book for another, or just lounge around and read a book in one sitting. It was more of just a paradise for book lovers. The smell of books always lingered in the air, with a twinge of dust from the old armchairs that furnished the room.

Bohiel became coherent and looked up at Evan with a lopsided grin that said his usual apology for him. Bohiel had fallen asleep reading some old leather bound book whose title was long faded. But it didn’t matter he read it anyway. He believed all books to be the well-worn volumes of someone’s deepest thoughts, and it never seemed to matter whose thoughts they belonged to. So long as they were preserved in the pages for generations to come. Only seconds had passed since Evan had woken him up.

Bohiel looked up to see Evan holding a more modern looking book called “Swan Song”. Bohiel suddenly jumped up, he had been reading the stories of a pair of brothers, The Winchesters they were called, and the books were belonged in a series called Supernatural by the author, Carver Edlund. Bohiel was caught up in their world of family, danger, and reality. Bohiel was fascinated by the stories because they were scarily accurate. Not many knew of the creatures that dwelled just beyond the barriers of reality and some knew but refused to believe.

Bohiel reached up and took the book from Evan, eager to begin reading. Evan usually allowed Bohiel to stay down in the store after close while he ran errands and cooked dinner. Bohiel had been living with the other man ever since he had been decidedly stuck on Earth, unable to return home to Heaven for reasons unbeknownst to him. So he spent his time reading and living within other worlds in his own mind. Evan went upstairs leaving Bohiel to read in the back of the shop, and Bohiel read through the night till he nearly finished the book. But something caught his attention and stopped him in his tracks. In the story line the Winchesters had seemingly hit a bird with the beloved Chevy Impala, and the bird, a literary Harbinger of impending doom, was a Raven. The description of the Raven’s sudden appearance and death was disturbing to the angel and when he read the sentence, “the Raven Curdled under. A Clinched Thunderous Sky”, and that is how one of the last chapters ended. Bohiel finished the book, but never discovered the importance of the Raven within the stories plot, and went back to the page where the Raven died.  Bohiel was bothered by the amount of capitalization and the misplaced punctuation within the odd sentence and he wrote the phrase on the slip of paper he used as a book mark. Bohiel began to think, what if the phrase was a code, he needed to crack to understand the meaning of the sentence. He presumed the words that were capitalized were the importance ones and started there. So he had the phrase, “Raven Curdled” in one sentence, and, “A Clinched Thunderous Sky”, in the next. Given the strange nature of the phrases Bohiel believed them to be anagrams, and he raced upstairs to grab his notebook where he spend the remainder of the night rearranging words. He was given one clue when he guessed the first phrase to be a name, and from there he worked out that it was the name of the author of the book, “Carver Edlund”. He glanced down at the plain wrist watch he wore on his left wrist, vaguely noting that it was 2:37 in the morning. But he needed to keep going. The discovery that Raven Curdled was an anagram for Carver Edlund only reaffirmed his suspicion that the phrases were both anagrams. So he kept working through the night to attempt to figure out this mystery, re-reading most of the book, and searching in other installments from the Supernatural series for some small clue.


	2. Chapter 2

Bohiel took a sip of his coffee and glanced up at the old, loudly ticking clock on the wall to his left. It was almost half past five in the morning, he was still reading through the books of the supernatural series. Bohiel, though having fallen from heaven for reasons unbeknownst to him, although he assumed he disgraced his heavenly family in some way, retained one small bit of angel power. It was small, but helpful in this instance. Bohiel could read books a little differently than most people. He usually chose to savor books, to revel in the human-ness of the stories, the paper, the ink, the binding, and the whole concept of written tales. However, he felt that this story held something important, something that mattered in the real world. So he read them the angel way, it wasn’t magic, or as quick as touching the cover or anything like that, but it was faster than reading each individual word and letting one’s mind search itself for the meaning of each phrase. He could basically skim the page and get the meaning if he concentrated closely enough, and words that were important would stick like a web in his mind. Basically the concentration of an angel would be a college student’s best friend. But it wasn’t something Bohiel liked to use much. It turned books into an “angel thing” and he liked to keep them a pure, human, anomaly.

            He read the series in record time and by 6 A.M he knew he needed to do more research to figure out what, “A Clinched Thunderous Sky”, meant. He went over to the slow, old desktop that Evan kept for customers to use. He pulled up “Google” the only search engine he really understood, and knew how to use. He typed, “Carver Edlund” in the search box and after scrolling through several pages, discovered that Carver Edlund was actually a pseudonym, and the author’s real name was in fact, “Chuck Shurley”. Bohiel grabbed a notebook and a pen from the desk and wrote the mystery phrase, he then wrote “Chuck Shurley” beneath it and crossed out letters the two phrases had in common. The name could easily fit so that helped him brought Bohiel one step closer. By Eight O’Clock when heard Evan coming down the stairs he had figured it out. His notebook was nothing by crossed out phrases, names, and wild connections, but the phrase had to be, “Chuck Shurley is not dead”. That’s the only thing he could figure. From there he gathered that this author was believed to be dead, and must be in hiding from someone. And Bohiel knew that he needed to find him, something in his gut told him it was important, and as a former angel he trusted his instincts. During his research he found the author’s home address, and though he knew that the author obviously wouldn’t be sitting on his front porch sipping tea, Bohiel knew he’d find some clue to where Chuck Shurley is at his home address. So he packed a bag of essentials and slipped out of the store under the pretense that he was visiting family. Bohiel only wished he were visiting family. Sometimes having no connections to his angel brethren was more painful than the realization that he wouldn’t be returning to heaven anytime soon.

            Luckily Bohiel was only a few hours away by bus from the home of Chuck Shurlely.

He arrived at the house at 11am and walked in without knocking. The house of a dead man was anyone’s territory in his mind. He walked through the house once, not inspecting carefully to check for others. There was no one, so he began to look around more carefully. He found a cheap wooden desk with a computer in one room and sat down at the desk to l search for any kind of sign to help him. He sifted through several piles of paper till he found a small post- it note with the words, “Raven Curdled” at the top. Underneath that was the name of a nearby hotel. This search had taken a lot less time than he expected. He found answers so quickly that he began to wonder if this trail had been left as a trap for him. Bohiel stuffed the note in his pocket and walked to the nearest bus stop.  He boarded a bus again, this time to the hotel listed on the post-it note.

            When he got to the hotel he started to walk up to the check-in desk before he realized that he had no idea who to ask for. Bohiel highly doubted that Chuck Shurley would be checked in to a hotel by either of his names. Bohiel did the only thing he could think of and walked to the desk and handed the tense looking man the crumpled up post-it note. The man nodded and gave Bohiel a key. A real key, note one of those plastic cards hotels used as keys these days.

            The number on the key said 106 so Bohiel set off down the corridor that showed a sign leading to rooms 100-120. When he got to the door he carefully put the key in the door and pushed the door open. But he was surprised to see two men already in the room. The two men were both bearing guns. One of the men had short hair, and a distinguishing necklace around his neck, the other distinguished by his height and the length of his shaggy dark hair. Apparently Bohiel wasn’t the only one searching for Chuck Shurley.


End file.
